


muffins

by qira (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Are muffins a euphemism?, F/M, Fluff and Humor, For Jaime Lannister:, Or is he hyped about supporting local businesses?, Shameless Flirting and Banter, That's it, that's the plot, we may never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 23:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/qira
Summary: Jaime Lannister.He's just there sometimes, out of nowhere, and today he is leaning against the doorway of her office, arms crossed, work shirt unbuttoned, smirking like the devil.





	muffins

Jaime Lannister.

He's just there sometimes, out of nowhere, and today he is leaning against the doorway of her office, arms crossed, work shirt unbuttoned, smirking like the devil.

She wants to tell him to try a new pose, to button up, to waste someone else's time with the charade.

Most importantly, she wants to wipe that smirk off his face. Smacking it would be preferable. Sansa would encourage her and say he had it coming anyway.

_"He's a Lannister. Need I say more?"_

"Looking good today, Wench. I swear the color blue was made with you in mind."

Silence descends upon the pair. Brienne ignores Jaime and focuses on her laptop. What she really needs is Podrick. Podrick is the one who knows his way around the photo editing software, but he's out sick for the day and Brienne refuses to call and bother him. But she's running out of time, scrambling to finish a project before the client meeting that's in less than two hours. Podrick did the graphics and Brienne presented the products. It had been like that consistently for years.

"This is where you say 'My name is not Wench its Brienne, Jaime!'"

She continues to ignore him.

"This is our thing. I call you Wench, you vehemently insist otherwise, I tell you with that stature and strong arms—arms which I'd gladly let choke me—that you have the makings of a serving wench, you glare—"

She looks up and gives Jaime what he wants, staring him down with the most withering glare she can muster.

Jaime looks delighted at her reaction. He claps his hands together once on and off, then steps off from the door and walks towards her desk.

"There it is! You can't leave a man hanging, Wench. I need that like I need my morning coffee."

Brienne scoffs. "Coffee with flavor shots and extra whip isn't coffee it's just sugar."

"But when I buy ten of them with my punch card I get a free muffin."

"Please, do me a favor, be an adult and go to Starbucks like everyone else, they have an app you can download too; lots of deals. No one does punch cards anymore."

"They're really big muffins."

Brienne looks at the clock. She really doesn't have time for this. She wants to grab her computer and rattle it, shout at it, will it with her mind to open the software.

"What's the matter, Wench?" Brienne can hear concern his voice, but she stays resolute, staring at the computer screen.

"I need Podrick," Is all she can say.

Jaime considers this for a moment.

"I'm no Podrick, I mean I'm certainly better looking, but I can give it a shot," He says and squares his shoulders. "I'm at your service. What can I do for you today miss Tarth?"

Those rare times he doesn't call her Wench is when she knows he means business. Unfortunately she doesn't want to waste time trying find anyone else to ask, the clock is ticking down, the layout posters need to be touched up, and then she has to get to the printer. As much as she hates to admit it, Jaime is who she's resigned to at the moment.

She finally asks him, "Do you know anything about Photoshop?"

"Do I? _Do I know anything about Photoshop?_ It was only a part of art class basics when I was in grade school." Jaime waves his hand flippantly, looking affronted that she could dare to assume otherwise.

"We must have gone to different schools then," She muttered under her breath.

"You mean to tell me that Selwyn Tarth didn't send you to a uniform only private school with round the clock security?"

"No, but my art class did get to make clay pots one year. I made a pot inspired by the era of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. I got an A for it."

"Of course you did."

"Of course I got an A or of course because I did it based on medieval history?"

"Both."

She finally looks at Jaime and returns him a long awaited smile in kind.

"But clay pots are certainly a far cry from Photoshop. Though you could probably make the same design with it."

“But it wouldn’t be as much fun.”

Jaime walks around her desk and steps up behind Brienne, leaning over her shoulder to look down at her laptop screen. She can feel his breath against her shoulder, which smells of fresh peppermint, and his cologne, something that smells so tantalizingly good that she's sure it’s made for handsome models with sculpted abs and unmovable hair, doing commercials in places like London or Paris.

She doesn't tell him that. She would never tell him that—he'd never leave her alone again if she said it out loud. Instead she deflects and can't resist what comes out of her mouth. After all it is a part of their thing, as he said earlier.

"Lannister you finally found a position you can be taller than me in. Take it all in. Enjoy the moment."

"Oh, Wench, there are plenty of positions that could work." His hand closes around hers on the wireless mouse. "When we're done here I'll send you a link."

"Jaime! Focus, please!"

"You said it! Not me!"

Their fingers click together against the mouse, the pointer moves around the screen, and Jaime furrows his brows in confusion.

"Wench, you don't even have Photoshop open."

"Exactly! It refuses to open. An error pops up and says something about needing permission from the system administrator. If I don’t get in there I don’t know what I’m going to do. Jaime, this is for the Martell account. We all know how Oberyn likes to come and go with different companies. I need to give him a reason to stick with us."

"Relax, Wench, I got you. This is your computer right?"

"Yes, but I got a copy of the software from Pod on a flash drive." She had arranged one of company's assistants to go to his apartment this morning to pick it up. It had everything she needed, including the PSD files of their current project.

The mouse clicked again and Jaime used the search bar in the file explorer to find the Photoshop file.

"That's your problem. Since it's not a portable version it needs administrator permission because its software that hasn't been previously installed on your system." Jaime moves in closer, his chest is directly touching her back. Brienne is locked in. She can’t move forward. If she moved at all she'd knock into him.

"It's an easy fix," He continues. Then he uses the mouse to right click the Photoshop file, drags the pointer down the list of options, and clicks off on RUN AS SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR. A confirmation box appears and he clicks YES, but not before ticking the square so she won't see it as a running dialogue every time she opens the file.

The Photoshop logo appears on her screen and Brienne lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding

"See? It's that easy. You should've just come to me in the first place."

Jaime pulls away from her and rounds back around to the front of her desk.

"Thank you," She tells him, honestly. No jokes or teasing to be found; she really means it.

"It's no problem, Wench."

"I guess I owe you one."

Jaime's smirk returns, full force. "If you insist... I like a good steak and potato. Preferably a filet and potatoes made with a ricer and truffle oil."

"Excuse me?"

"I can see the wheels in your head spinning. Relax, Wench. I'll buy the dinner. All you have to do is show up. I'll make a reservation for tonight. Does seven sound good? If you want to keep up with a trend, wearing blue would be much appreciated."

He heads towards the exit of her office before she can argue.

"By the way, those big muffins are fresh made with local ingredients."

He winks and he’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in like... 7 months... Also my first Braime... Be gentle with me.


End file.
